A Ripple in Still Waters
by Fairia13
Summary: Having lost his arm in an accident when he was younger, famous novelist Sesshomaru Taishou, now researching his next book in Ireland, receives more than he bargained for in the form of a mysterious woman. MF, AU, Beware of Magic
1. Chapter 1

A Ripple in Still Waters

Summary: Having lost his arm in an accident when he was younger, famous novelist Sesshomaru Taishou, now researching his next book in Ireland, receive more than he bargained for in the form of a mysterious woman. M/F, AU, Beware of Magic.

Rating: R for language, violence, adult content and outrageous ideas by a less-than-normal, sleep-deprivedwoman with a penchant for torturing unsuspecting cartoon characters. Possibly Two.

Note: The idea for this story was origionally though up by YFate (author of "The Price of Vengeance" and "The Source of Solace"), but I took the ball, ran with it, got sick of the first chapter sitting desolately on my poor little laptop, said fuck it, and uploaded it.

Enjoy?

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**Chapter One: The First Ripple**

Cold. He was so cold. It wasn't a chill he associated with a damp and foggy morning, no was it the biting cold of winter. This ache was a freezing, numbing, bone-deep ache that permeated his very _being._

He was floating in a sea of darkness, occasional images flashing through his minds eye; a warehouse, many people gathered inside. The lighting was dim and so was the atmosphere. Eerie golden eyes – so much like his own – which peered up at him from a face far too small to hold them.

"_Aniki? What's going on?" a tremulous little voice asked._

"_Nothing 'Yasha. Go home. And…stay there, okay?" Answered a voice he recognized as his own. _

He saw the street, dank, dark, half of the lights shot out by gangsters and druggies and drunks. The other half barely functioning. The fog was rolling in, settling low on the ground, creating a haze over the entire situation. Next to him a man – no, a boy – pulled a scarred leather jacket a little tighter around his frame. "Man, I don't like this." He muttered, his bright blue eyes casting about

"Fuck that." Came a harsh voice from off to their left. His vision swung around to reveal an angry-looking boy, about the age of seventeen, though his eyes revealed him to be much older than he looked. Angry, bitter eyes, Sesshomaru thought vaguely, from somewhere in his daze. "They killed Mark. We kill them."

From his detached point of view, Sesshomaru recognized his own bloodlust coursing through his veins at the thought. He felt his thumbs slide across his fingertips and something in his subconscious realized that he was feeling for claws that weren't there, and wondered at the gesture.

Why would he have claws?

For a while, there was darkness. He floated in the sea of inky blackness, wondering what had happened. Where was he? He was supposed to be somewhere, with someone, so why couldn't he get there?

A loud _bang! _interruped the darkness, a burst of firey orange on the edge of hisvision,startled him and he was abruptly thrust into another vision.

The bang had been from the rival gang, the sound of a round from a crappy-ass handgun. Without thought, he returned fire. It was the way it was; if you didn't kill, you were killed.A sharp pain in his arm, followed by numbness as his vision went red, then black.

"You arrogant, cocksure son-of-a-bitch!"

The voice was screeching at him, it's high-pitched tone grating his ear drums and making him desperately wish for another hit of…something, anything to make it _stop._ It _hurt_.

"Ma'am?" A deeper, more soothing voice floated to him. "Ma'am you're going to have to leave."

"Leave? You can't make me leave! I'm his _mother!_ I gave _birth_ to his sorry ass! I fed and clothed this little prick for years!"

…Ah, _now_ he remembered why he wanted a hit of something.

He floated to consciousness lazily, as best he could. Forcing his eyes open, the first thing he saw was his baby brother sitting forlornly on a chair across the room.

"Hey 'Yash," He tried to get out, though the noise that passed his lips was nothing like what he wanted to say. What came out instead was more of a strangled moan, a pathetic whimpering that refused to form any coherent syllables.

Inuyasha looked over nonetheless, and when he saw his brother's amber eyes slit open, he hopped off his chair and ran over. Sesshomaru ignored him for a second as a wave of pain rocked over him. Everything hurt. Especially his leg… but, strangely, he couldn't feel his left arm.

"Aniki!" He breathed. "Aniki, we thought you weren't going to wake up!"

"Why wouldn't I?" He tried to ask, but once more was prevented from doing so by his own vocal chords.

He had failed to realize however, that when Inuyasha had run over, all other noise in the room had stopped. Silence had reigned for those few, precious seconds and was abruptly killed by the explosion of expletives that originated from the foot of the hospital bed.

"You little _fuck!_ You arrogant little bastard, what the _fuck _were you doing? You drug-snorting, pistol-popping little asshole, I oughta beat you from here to next week with a fucking _baseball_ _bat_."

"Ma'am, you have to _leave._" The baritone voice resonated once more, this time with a trace of anger coloring the soothing tone. "I need to look at him."

Sesshomaru reached out and grasped his little brother's hand as tight as he could, despite the trembling that he feverntly hoped nobody saw, trying to convey with actions what he couldn't with words: _Leave my brother here._

"Don't worry Aniki; I won't let them take me away." He little brother whispered fervently to him.

'_Kid, you won't have much of a choice,' _Sesshomaru thought wryly, glaring at the doctor who approached his bed. Even in his own half-aware haze he knew his mother was doped up, cocaine being her drug of choice, and he was equally sure that sending his little brother out there wasn't to his benefit.

His mother was standing outside of the closed door, and Sesshomaru could hear her muttered curses through the wooden door as the doctor bent over him and checked his vitals, adjusting the drip of the IV he was attached too and smiling reassuringly at Inuyasha before turning to Sesshomaru.

"Do you remember what happened young man?" The doctor asked, turning to him and speaking kindly.

"I…was shot." Sesshomaru answered hesitatingly, the words slurred and barely discernable in his narcotics-induced haze. At the doctor's nod, he continued. "In my arm. And I think…in my leg..?"

"Too true, young man." The doctor said. "You were in a street gang shoot-out." He cast him an askance look and opened his mouth to continue, but Inuyasha, still sitting on his right, piped up.

"He told me to go home and stay there." He added helpfully.

"Very wise of him." The doctor responded. Turning back to Sesshomaru, he continued. "You were shot in your left arm. The bullet…" He paused before continuing. "The bullet was a hollow-tip bullet." His face was grim as he continued. "Highly illegal, but what concerns me more is what they did to _you._"

Sesshomaru said nothing, but a sinking feeling in his stomach warned him that whatever is was, it was bad.

"One was shot into your left arm," The doctor further explained, and Sesshomaru sensed he was stalling.

"What?" He ground out, just wanting to hear what the man had to say.

"It… We had to remove your arm." The doctor said quietly.

Sesshomaru's mind went blank.

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Inuyasha stepped off of the plane and stretched, arching his back and feeling the vertebra pop as he did so. Rolling his shoulders, he looked around. Tralee seemed to be your average airport, people scurrying to and fro, mother's herding children along, business-types carrying briefcases and yelling into cell phones, even a group of collage students convening off in a corner. The loudspeaker was blaring announcements and boarding times, employees were looking harassed and tourists were gawking.

Across the way, a saucy collage-age brunette gave him the eye. Inuyasha grinned. Knowing full well what she was seeing: a five-foot-eleven, one hundred and seventy pound male with silvery-white hair and odd amber-hued eyes. His hair, coming to just below his shoulder was kept in a low tail, a tribute to the old-world renaissance style. He wore a plain black tee-shirt, with comfortably broken-in jeans faded to white at the stress points and a good pair of comfortable running shoes. A warm leather coat and a messenger's backpack topped off the look. Inuyasha knew he was handsome, and he kept himself in good condition, usually running about three miles a day every other day, lifting weights and taking kenpo on the side. However, his outstanding physical condition wasn't for looks, it was for his job. He knew that if the curvaceous little brunette knew that he currently had a nine millimeter handgun, and five-inch knife and a pair of handcuffs on him, she would probably _not_ be eyeing him like she was.

Then again, maybe she would: some women got turned on by that stuff.

Shrugging, Inuyasha slung the backpack over his shoulder and walked off towards the luggage terminal, ignoring the brunette's sexy little pout, the only thing on his mind getting his luggage and rental car and getting the hell out of there. He still had a two-and-a-half hour drive up to Galway Bay, and then he needed to locate his B&B.

The luggage carousel started chugging just as hic cell rang. Not bothering to check the ID screen, he flipped up the screen and hit 'talk.'

"Yeah?"

"Taishou, we need a status report." His boss, John McClellan said without preamble.

"I'm in Tralee. I'm going to grab my stuff and head on up to Galway."

"Is that where he's headed?"

"No, all reports say he's headed to the Aran Isles." Inuyasha said, knowing immediately what would follow. He wasn't disappointed.

"Well then why the hell won't you be _there?_" His supervisor snapped.

"Pull up your Irish map McClellan, I _will_ be." He snapped back. "The Aran Isles are in the Galway Bay, almost into the Atlantic Ocean. I'm going to hold over in Galway City tonight and catch the ferry on the morning."

"Don't jack off Inuyasha, we _need_ this guy caught." The tone warned him that his supervisor was done jacking around.

Inuyasha bristled. "You think I don't know that?" He bit out. "I haven't been tailing this guy across the U.S. and Canada for the fun of it."

"Look, we can't talk about it now, but we'll talk later. Just call me when you get settled in for the night." McClellan said, suddenly sounding very old and tired.

"How about I call you tomorrow? I'll call at nine am, your time? We have an eight hour time difference, so it'll be five pm here and that will have given me time to check up on him." Inuyasha temporized.

He heard a small, world-weary sigh drift through the phone. "Where are you again?" His supervisor asked tiredly.

"Is this a secure line?"

"Yes."

"Then we'll talk tomorrow. Go home and get some sleep old man." Inuyasha huffed, then shut the phone with a satisfied click, effectively ending the conversation. He pulled his luggage off the carousel and walked up to the rental counter.

"Taishou?" He asked the bored-looking man sitting there.

The man roused long enough to confirm his order, then gave the key to a more awake-looking man, who led him outside.

"Is this your first trip to Killarney?" The man asked brightly as he led him through a corridor.

"Umm, yeah." Inuyasha muttered, preoccupied with his earlier conversation.

"And where do ya be headin'?" The boy continued gaily.

"Up Towards Galway." Inuyasha replied, studying the midsized car he was currently standing in front of him: A 2003 Honda Civic coupe, manual transmission with air conditioner, power steering and anti-lock brakes. A low-key, dark blue exterior and a black interior. The windows weren't tinted, but that was to be expected.

Putting his bags down and not taking the key from the man he walked around the car, looking for any loose or protruding wires or parts, or any smells. Dropping to the ground in what appeared to be a push-up position, he proceed to check the underside of the car, looking, again, for anything loose protruding or out-of-the-ordinary.

Satisfied that the outside of the car was safe, at least from the outside, he opened the passenger-side door and scanned the inside of the car before examining the gas and brake pedals, the steering wheel, column and gear shift before going to the driver's side door and doing the same. Finally he popped the hood and checked the engine, fluid levels, belts and brakes, again, looking for any unusual sights or smells before finally declaring himself satisfied with the car.

"Thanks man." He said to the boy, who was looking more than a little perplexed.

"Whatcha been doin'?" The boy asked, his eyes wide as saucers in his face.

Inuyasha raised an eyebrow. "I was inspecting the car." He said. _'For bombs, cut brake lines and other explosives.'_ He added mentally. If the boy didn't recognize the inspection for what it was, then it made Inuyasha's job that much easier.

Warily the boy helped him put his bags in the trunk and he signed the final release forms. Waving merrily, Inuyasha was on his way. Once out of the airport, he pulled off to the side of the road and plugged his GPS system into the dash. Programming it, he set his course for Galway City.

'_Northeast through Limerick, northwest up to Ennis then hang a right and straight on till Morning." _He chuckled to himself, popping in a CD before pulling back onto the road and heading off.

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Trees. They were the first thing he noticed, the sheer abundance of leafy green trees which hung shimmering and silver-edged, in the moonlight. Water, deepest blue except for the tiniest waves which were crested in luminescent silvery-white lapped gently at the shoreline. A breeze whispered through the leaves on the bushes and fireflies and faeries danced and played on the warm night air.

'_Silly faeries.'_ He thought, snorting in amusement.

On a more conscious level, he realized the utter absurdity of that thought. There was no such thing as faeries, and certainly not in _his _dreams!

Tension hung in the air, but oddly enough, it wasn't the kind where one would be anticipating something unpleasant. The tension was of the sweetest kind, heightening his senses, making every turn and shift in the air currents blatantly sensual against his skin as his blood thrummed in a steady cadence through his veins. Absently, he ran his thumbs over the tips of his claws.

The gentle lapping at the shore by the waves increased slightly in intensity, denoting the movement of something shifting in their depths. Turning, Sesshomaru smiled.

She was beautiful, he thought, both in his dream and on a more conscious level. Ebony locks fell in gentle curls down her back, bringing into prominence pale ivory skin and eyes colored deepest sapphire fringed in thick black lashes. Pink lips shaped like a cupid's bow were smiling gently.

Her form was draped with a fabric that seemed to be made out of the water itself, shifting and shimmering with her movements, draped lovingly over her lush figure; the swell of her breasts and hips, the shadows and hollows of her stomach. Her arms were left completely bare and the bottom of the dress was slit, as much for comfort of movement as for show.

The waters seemed to part as she moved towards him, her eyes casting over him, admiring his loose white silks and the sash of goldenrod and navy fabric that belted them together. His armor and swords had already been removed and were laying on the edge of the clearing, gleaming inconspicuously in the moonlight.

He was safe here.

Reaching out his hand, he let her finger slide into his palm as he drew her towards him and pressed his lips against hers, molding her to his frame as she wound her arms around his neck and through his hair in a fierce grasp. The kiss was nothing less than bliss, a sweet meeting of flesh on flesh as lips parted and his tongue flicked out to taste her. She moaned slightly in his arms and pulled him closer trailing her lips over his and across his cheeks to his temple as he bent his head to taste the sweetness of her jaw line, relishing the taste of salt and the sense of impossibly vast waters that was left tingling on his skin.

They parted, breathing shallowly and she smiled, sapphire eyes lighting up as she leaned back ad grasped his hand, leading him towards the water. Beneath the opaque surface crested by foamy white waves, something gleamed, beckoned.

He woke.

Shooting straight up in bed, Sesshomaru sat there, lungs heaving and stomach roiling as he struggled to control his reactions to the vixen in his dreams. Finally he swung his legs out of bed and straightened his silk pajama bottoms before striding out of the bedroom and towards the kitchen, intent on finding a drink.

He didn't bother to turn on any lights as he opened the cupboard and pulled out a glass, turning on the tap and filling it before taking a long swallow. The dreams had haunted him as long as he could remember, from the time he was a child still living in the ghetto of Chicago. A woman who emerged from the sea, always. The setting varied, but the sea was always involved. Sometime they were in a underwater grotto where phosphorus and gems encrusted in the ceiling sparkled like a million stars. Sometimes they were on the shore, in the sand, in the forest, near the ocean.

He always looked the same. Fully grown he looked much as he did in the dream save for slightly longer hair, which was odd because he first remembered the dreams at the age of five. He was always dressed in white silks with the same sash and black boots. His armor – heavy-looking and dangerously spiked – gleamed on the edge of his vision along with two swords which he somehow knew belonged to him.

Rinsing his cup and setting it in the sink, Sesshomaru turned and looked towards the clock on the microwave. Six in the morning. Turning back to the sink, he stared out of the window above in and into the grey-shrouded mists that blanketed the island in the early morning.

Dark. Mysterious. The mists of the Aran Isles held a thousand secrets, a million untold tales. Hate and joy, love and lust, death and life, infinite helplessness and indescribable power. It was all here, he could feel it. It hummed along his skin, thrummed through his veins, lit him up in a way nothing had done since he realized that the world was not the way the fairy tales had promised. The good guy didn't always win, love doesn't always conquer all and if you reached for the moon, you didn't land among the stars.

This was the perfect place for his book. A madman searching for a jewel, like his brother had said when they talked last. A jewel of infinite worth, obtained at an impossible price, which may or may not have existed anywhere but in the mind of a mental patient.

He would make it so he decided. He just needed to figure out how.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: Why you don't piss off the person holding your drink**

It _burned._ The need to see the jewel, to feel it, to hold it, to _possess _it, was indescribable.

He had chased to jewel for half a millennia. Having possessed it briefly in Japan's feudal era, he knew its capabilities, its limits….

…and it was _limitless._

It was also clever. It had chosen its guardian carefully, built a veritable fortress of purity around itself that had prevented him from getting near it for five hundred years now. It had concealed itself cleverly, and he had scoured several continents in this lifetime alone looking for it. Finally though, he had cornered it here. It didn't want to be caught. _She_ didn't want to be tamed. But it would, and she would.

All he needed was patience.

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He hated being patient.

Unfortunately, it came with the territory that was his job. And, really, compared to _some_ places he had waited – dumpsters, seedy bars, back corners of the enemy gangs alleyway – this was far more preferable.

Inuyasha was kicked back in an Irish pub, nursing a friggin' _water_ - as much as he wanted a foaming pint, he knew he couldn't afford the alcohol in his system - while the ferrymen puttered about his boat, trying to figure out what was wrong with the engine.

Finding Naraku - or, Oniguimo as he was sometimes called - should have been easy. The island was only, what, thirty-two thousand square miles? Roughly the size of Indiana in the United States. He shouldn't have been that difficult to locate - they not only knew who he was, but what he was after and where he was looking for it.

It _should_ have been easy - so why wasn't it?

The bastard had eluded him for over two years, leading Inuyasha in a merry chase across Japan, then China, even Egypt and parts of the United States before finally coming here, leaving a trail of destruction that the deaf and dumb could have followed. He had mysteriously disappeared for about six months in the southern US, and Inuyasha had thought he'd lost him, but the murder of a small child had betrayed him.

The child had been only six years old, a bright, happy little girl with long, silky dark hair and big blue eyes. The state they had found her in...Inuyasha shuddered slightly at the memory. She had been found with numerous deep gashes in her sides and rib cage, strangled, tendons slashed so she couldn't run. The only thing they had found that had linked them to Onigumo was drawings of that same pink ball that they had seen everywhere else. No one knew what to make of the drawings, but everyone agreed it was a simple enough way to recognize him.

_Bang!_

Inuyasha glanced up, startled out of his thoughts, only to find himself staring into a pair of angry brown eyes. The bang had been a foaming pint being slammed down onto the table by an equally angry fist.

'_Well, not brown really…'_ He mused, ignoring the _slosh _of cold beer on his hand. _'There's too many colors to simply be "brown." But angry…? Definitely.'_

"For you sir." The girl said pleasantly, the tone belied by the glare. "Courtesy of the girls over there." She added, jerking her head towards the bar across the room.

Inuyasha glanced in the direction of her gaze. Two girls were sitting at the bar, giggling over their own pints and smiling at him. One fluttered her fingers in his direction.

'_Damn. Damn damn damn…'_

"Sorry," He said, smiling and waving his hand at the proffered drink. "I'm not interested."

The girl quirked a brow and something kin to respect might have shone in her eyes. "No? Not may people refuse Foina and Colleen."

Inuyasha glanced over. He could certainly see _why_ not many people refused them. One had bright red hair, the color of a copper penny and laughing green eyes. A sprinkling of freckles dusted her cheeks. The other had equally pale skin, sans the freckles. Her hair was deepest brown and her eyes were pale, icy blue. Both women had lithe, willowy figures and generous…assets.

In short, they looked like every other stuck-up, vain and shallow woman he had gone to school with. Well, a bit more exotic maybe, but the signs were all there. Their clothes obviously weren't from around here. Their hair was expertly tousled, and probably sprayed to stay that way. Inuyasha had seen - and been with - enough high-class women to know that the majority of their looks were make-up and the red head wore contacts.

"I can see that." He said wryly.

The girl in front of him quirked an eyebrow. _So what's your problem?_ it said.

Inuyasha grinned. _Oh this would be fun…_

"Why would I hit on them when you're so much prettier?" He asked pleasantly. He expected a blush, a stammer, a saucy grin.

Anything but what he got.

Dark brown eyes clouded over, turning nearly black with rage. Color suffused her cheeks, bright red against ivor skin and her formerly full red lips thinned into a pale, white line. That was all the warning her got before the foaming pint was pitched across his face.

"Wh-what-?" Inuyasha sputtered, leaping up. "What the fuck was that for!"

"You _bastard._" The girl hissed, spinning on her heel and storming out of the room, right past the girls by the bar not sparing their shocked gasps and horrified faces a second glance, leaving Inuyasha gaping, with a sopping shirt and roomful of people staring at him.

'_Oh, _this _is the way to keep a low profile…' _

However, Inuyasha pushed back his inner voice - which was sniggering - and stormed after the girl.

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"Lou, I'm taking a break!" Sango shouted as she stormed out the back door, her voice thick with anger and tears. Lou glanced up from her sink - where her arms were to the elbows in soapy, sudsy water - just in time to see Sango's retreating back as the door swung closed behind her.

Not five seconds later, the door leading into the tavern swung open again, and an obviously angry young man with striking white-silver hair and burning gold eyes strode into the room. The smell of yeast radiated off of him and foam was still dripping down his cheek.

"Where did she go?" He bellowed, pining the elderly lady with and angry glare. The woman in question - who looked like she ought to have been baking cookies - returned his glare and folded her still sudsy arms across her chest.

"Why do you want to know?" She asked calmly, but with no less heat.

"Wench threw beer in my face, and I want an apology!" Inuyasha snarled.

The lady quirked an eyebrow at the young man, eyeing him. "What did you do?"

"Do?" Inuyasha repeated incredulously. "I didn't _do_ anything wench! She threw beer on _me!_"

"Yes, but what did you do to provoke that? Sango doesn't usually go off without a reason."

"All I did was ask why I would hit on other women when she's much prettier!" Inuyasha ground out. "And she threw beer on me. I want to know why!"

The woman's other eyebrow quirked up to join its companion, and together they rose towards her hairline. "Aah." She pointed towards the door. "That way."

With a terse nod, Inuyasha strode out.

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Sango bolted.

It was the only word for it. Cowardly, she knew, and completely beneath her, as a waitress and a woman. If she had any senseat all, she would turn around and march right back to the tavern and apologize for dumping the pint all over the ass's arrogant head.

But the _nerve_ of him!

"_Why would I look at them when you're so much prettier?"_

The words haunted her, taunted her, floating around inside her skull and stabbing small, stinging barbs at her pride.

Plain, she was. Brown of hair and eye, pale of skin, she was nothing exceptional to look at. She knew. She had been told, and though she was nothing extraordinary, she was nobody's fools either.

Taking a sharp right into a narrow alley, Sango resisted the urge to stop and kick a wall in her frustration.

No need to get her shoes dirty.

So wrapped up was she in her anger that she never noticed the figure blocking her path until she bumped into it.

Strong hands wrapped around her upper arms, holding her immobile. She glanced up, startled, into a pair of calculating brown eyes.

"Well now, what have we here boys?"

The voice was taunting, oily slick and cool. The boy himself couldn't have been older then seventeen or eighteen, but he was tall and lanky, with the unfinished look of someone who wasn't done growing. His hooded shirt was as faded and stained as his jeans, and his sneakers were scuffed and worn. Upon closer inspection, his eyes were glazed and had the blood-shot appearance of someone who hadn't slept enough and who partied too hard. His skin was sallow with ill-health and he reeked of cigarette smoke and the higher, sweeter fragrance of marijuana.

Sango's stomach turned.

"Looks like someone wandered into the wrong part of town." Came a voice – deceptively indifferent - at her back.

Turning her head, Sango noted that there were others beyond the two who spoke. Four total, all of them appeared. All about the same age, and all of them obviously stoned, high or one some kind of trip. Sango sank back, trying to lose her captor's hold. The boy, however, wasn't as out of it as he seemed, and tightened his grip.

"Aah now, no tricks, sneaky bitch. You're the one who walked in on _our_ party after all. You must have wanted to party too, right?"

"Umm… no. I just made a wrong turn on my way home from work. If you'll please let me go, I'll be on my way."

"What, you don't wanna party?" Sneered the boy on the left. "You look like a party girl. Don't she Jake?" He asked the guy next to him.

"Not really, but we can make do." The young man – blonde, tall and stoned off his ass – muttered. "Kinda plain, but she's got a figure."

The second guy - the one standing behind her – came forward with a lit, and poorly rolled, joint. Her captor took a slow, hit as the guy held it out, then deliberately blew the smoke in her face, causing Sango to wrinkle her nose as she tried to hold her breath. The guy, a slow, cocky grin on his lips, held the still lit joint to her lips.

"Come on sweetie, take a hit." He crooned. His voice was low and persuasive, and his eyes dark and ugly.

Sango shook her head, lips pressed tightly together.

It was as if someone had flipped a switch.

"Stupid bitch!" He screamed, the back of his hand connecting solidly with her face. The force of the blow made her original captor lose his grip, and sent Sango stumbling as she tried not to land on the ground. Her mind spun. It was broad daylight! The road was only a hundred feet away! Could no one hear the commotion?

The man who had held the joint to her lips advanced on her, his eyes glimmering with malice. Regaining her lost footing – she had a bad feeling that if she fell it was all over – Sango dropped back into a defensive stance, calling on scattered knowledge from her Asian father. Right foot back, legs spread for balance….

"Oh…?" The blonde drawled, obviously amused. "Little bitch knows kung fu?"

"Little bitch wants to _fight_." Joint Guy said, and the joy in his voice sent shivers up Sango's spine.

'_He's mad.'_ She thought wildly. _'Absolutely insane.'_

Joint Guy idly flipped the butt of the joint to the ground before settling into a similar stance, flipping his overly-long dark hair out of his face as he grinned. "You want to play bitch?" He sneered. "I'll kick you ass."

Heart thudding, Sango waited.

She didn't have to wait long. Joint Guy threw the first punch, but drugs and idleness made his aim unsure, and his reaction-time slow. Sango dodged the blow easily, and lashed out, landing a solid fist to his jaw and sending the guy sprawling.

For one timeless moment, Sango didn't know who was more stunned; herself or her attacker. They all stared at her blankly, and Sango stared at her fist, which was still tightly clenched. An odd feeling of _rightness _sang through her veins, a brief, harmonic chorus before fading out, leaving er bewildered and confused.

How could she have done that? How could _she_ have done that? She hadn't hit anybody since Tommy O'Brien had called her "wide load" back in sixth grade!

"_Bitch!"_

Apparently her original captor had gotten over his shock; he charged at her, screaming

obscenities. Sango only had time to let out a muffled squeak before she ducked, sidestepping the heavier boy and coming back up, automatically pulling both fists up in front of her; one near her nose, the other next to her chin. Without thinking, she leaned back, resting her weight comfortably on her right foot as she settled into her original stance. As the boys circled, Sango bounced a bit on the balls of her feet, thanking God that Margo insisted on comfortable tennis shoes for working in.

Blondie threw the first punch, and his reflexes weren't nearly as slow as Joint Guy's had been. Sango barely blocked, swinging her forearm up before jabbing with her other fist then ducking as his pot-smoking buddy – Jake - backed him up, steadying him before leaping at her, and ugly snarl twisting his features. Sango sidestepped again, adrenaline pumping through her veins as she lifted her foot and kicked him as hard as she could in the ribs before settling back into her stance.

Joint Guy was up again, Sango noted dully as she ducked Blondie's next wobbly swing. He looked mad; too mad to think straight as he picked up an iron pipe lying in a refuse pile and stalking meaningfully towards her.

'_Oh shit…'_ Sango didn't' know where her newfound skills had come from, but she highly doubted they would do much good against the damage a lead pipe could cause.

Sango ducked as Jake swung, his swings growing more and more erratic as his anger grew. Sango ducked and dodged, occasionally lashing out, trying to catch his ankle or knee, but he was too unpredictable for her to kick, the drugs coursing through his system making him immune to the majority of her strikes.

'_Shit. Hell-fuck-damn. Where is the pipe?'_ Joint Guy had slid out of her sight, letting her focus on his buddies instead. Sango whirled–

-Only to come face-to-face with the angry golden eyes of the guy she had dumped beer on at the bar.

'_Shit.'_

Sango had a brief internal struggle – friend or foe? She really wanted to hit him – but in that space between heartbeats, Sango quite suddenly realized she was out of attackers.

Damn. She couldn't hit him.

"Where'd they go?" She blurted out, immediately feeling a rush of heat surge to her face. _'That was smooth.' _She congratulated herself. _'No "Hello", no "Thank you for saving me." Just "Where did they go?" Good one Sango. Real slick.'_

However Golden Boy had ignored her rudeness, a wry grin twisting his lips as he jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Some guy had the bright idea to bash you with a pipe. You took out blondie back there and the other two ran."

"Aaah…" Sango was out of witty comments. So instead she settled for rather meek-sounding "Oh." However, Golden Boy wasn't listening to her anymore, and had instead pulled out a cell phone, casually flipping it open as he turned his back to her. Though he was speaking quietly, she could tell he was talking to Interpol.

Sango stuck her tongue out at his back.

Casually flipping her off, without so much as glancing in her direction, he muttered a few more muffled sentences into the phone before flicking it closed with a _snap_ and turning to her.

"Well, the police will be here in a moment. Care to tell me what happened?" He asked casually.

Sango eyed him. "Why did you follow me?" She asked instead.

"You pissed me off." He said, frowning angrily. "I compliment you and you dump beer on me for no good reason. I wanted an apology. I still do." He added after a moment's thought. "So why were you in this alley again?" He asked again, switching back to the original topic as if she had never asked her question.

Sango blinked. Most men, when asked about themselves, were happy to boat about their accomplishments, to puff out their chests and assure her she was in "good hands." Most men were easily distracted by questions of loosely relevant things and could be diverted off the topic. Most men…

Obviously weren't this guy.

"What's your name?" Sango asked, once again wishing the connection between her mouth and her brain hadn't short-circuited and left her blurting out things like a fool.

"Inuyasha Taisho." Inuyasha replied. He opened his mouth – undoubtedly to repeat his question – when two things happened.

One, the police called squealed to a halt, sirens blaring, lights flashing.

Two, the guy on the ground groaned.

Inuyasha turned around, casually flipping blondie over with his foot, which he placed in the center of his back as he started to struggle.

The policemen rushed forward, chattering excitedly – apparently they'd been looking for these guys – and ushering Sango into the car, asking her kindly about the bruise on her cheek. She allowed herself to be led away, but not before she caught the look Inuyasha gave her, telling her that they weren't finished.

------------------------

Sesshomaru wandered.

It was, really, the only explanation for what he did. The Aran Isles weren't especially large, a few shops, a pub, an inn and a few houses for rent spread out over several square miles. And though, by any other standards it would have been considered "crowded," The Aran Isles seemed to be one of those few places where you could travel decades in the space of a few feet.

Despite the weather, cold and wet, misting rain making every tree and blade of grass a vibrant emerald hue and ever stone on every building stark white or vivid brown, there were several people wandering the square. Moving between stalls, chatting, scolding errant children, haggling. Sesshomaru moved among them, restless, looking for something he couldn't see, couldn't touch, couldn't taste of smell.

It was here. He knew it…

'_Fool.'_ He chided himself, deliberately slowing his pace as he stepped between two stalls. _'You don't even know what you're looking for.'_

It niggled at him, tickling the hairs on the back of his neck with whisper-soft kisses, beckoning.

'_Like a lightening strike.'_ He thought. The air was charged with it.

Growling, Sesshomaru whirled around, silver tail whipping soundlessly behind him as he strode away from the market and noise some people.

_There._

It caught his eye, a flash in his peripheral vision, deepest black turning the stone wall behind it insipid beige. A flutter of stark white linen in the breeze, beckoning.

He _turned_-

An edge of a basket, dried river weeds against the pale ivory flesh of her arm.

_Her._

He craned his neck, trying to look over the people blocking his way but he couldn't -

_There._ It was her. Palest white linen, bound under her breasts, molding to her hips and shins as she strode, barefoot, through the crowd.

Sesshomaru hissed under his breath, trying to cu through the suddenly-crowded market, whishing it weren't so busy.

"Hey!"

She turned, eyes flaring wide in her startlement, before she bolted, delicate toes and tiny feet carrying her into the fields faster then Sesshomaru could fathom. He ran, tried desperately to follow, but it was as if his feet were bound to the earth on which he stood; putting one foot in front of the other took tremendous strength.

"Hey, wait!"

She froze, spinning on the ball of her foot to stand at the edge of the field, skirts flaring wide around her before settling with a swirl of fabric into tame folds, to stare at him.

"Who are you?" He breathed, bound in her gaze as effectively as if she'd cast a net over him.

She blinked, eyes widening before narrowing into faint suspicion. Basket clasped in her left hand, her right raided, a single finger pointed into the distance. Unable to do otherwise, Sesshomaru's eyes followed her trail.

A circle of stones stood in the distance, much like Stonehenge in Britan of Scotland. He wrenched his head, back, wanting to ask…

But she was gone. Dust motes, glowing iridescent on the light of the full moon danced and swirled where she had stood.

"_It's not the time now, My Prince." _A voice whispered sweetly in his ear. _"Soon enough. He's coming, and I'll not be able to escape him much longer. I need you, but you must wait."_

Sesshomaru woke.

* * *

A/N: Sleep? Who needs sleep? Well, I do, but I'm forsaking it in favor of uploading the second chapter to ARiSW. Comments anyone? 


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